Sick Little Fairy
by HaloFin17
Summary: Premovie. Jack comes down with a nasty flu bug, and Bobby is the only one around to take care of him. Definitely NO slash. Rated for some language. Admittedly fun and fluffy, my goal here is to make you smile! Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: **Pre-movie. Jack comes down with a nasty flu bug, and Bobby's the only one home to take care of him. Definitely NO slash. Rated for some language. Admittedly fun and fluffy, my goal here is to make you smile!

**Disclaimer:** I may adore Jack and Bobby Mercer, but sadly, I do not own them.

**Author's Note:** Ok, here we go - my first Four Brothers fic! I owe a special thank you to Torilei and Whilom for first sparking and then sustaining my interest in this movie, which has since become one of my favorites. You guys are so awesome, I love you both! Like many authors before me, I don't habitually use swearing in my fics, but it would be rather difficult to keep the Mercer brothers in character without it. Well, this was originally going to be a oneshot, but it started getting a bit longer than I'd anticipated, so I've decided to break it up into two parts. Please enjoy, and feel free to review!

**Sick Little Fairy: Part 1**

Jack Mercer took one last drag on his cigarette before grinding it onto the front step with the toe of his shoe. He was later than normal today. He'd woken up that morning with a bit of a stomach ache, and it hadn't exactly improved over the course of the day. So the walk home from school had been a leisurely one, despite the biting winter wind and the fact that he had an even greater incentive than usual to get home on this particular Friday afternoon.

The tall sixteen-year-old pushed open the front door, grateful for the warmth, and entered into a surprisingly quiet house. And considering how lousy he felt, Jack found himself wishing it would stay that way. But of course, it was never silent for long in the Mercer household.

"Cracker Jack!"

Jack jumped in spite of himself, almost knocking his coat off the hook where he'd just hung it, and whirled around in time to see Bobby amble from the kitchen into the family room, a good-natured grin on his face.

"Hey, Bobby," the teen greeted his eldest sibling, shakily returning the smile as his stomach fought to recover from the older man's surprise entrance.

"Where've you been, ya little Fairy?" Bobby went on, clearly wasting no time in employing some of his favorite nicknames for his baby brother. "I've been waitin' for ya all afternoon."

Jack just offered one of his typical shrugs in response, but Bobby had already pulled him into a big bear hug. When they drew back, Bobby held his brother at arm's length and studied him closely.

"What?" Jack protested, squirming slightly under that scrutinizing gaze. Even now, after all the progress Evelyn had made with him since he first came into her care at the age of ten, he still was uncomfortable in the undivided attention of other people.

But Bobby just shook his head and made a face. "You really need to stop growing, Jackie, you're almost as tall as me now. Or at least cut off some of that crazy hair you got so you don't look so tall." He reached up to playfully ruffle his brother's spiky mess of dark blonde hair, but Jack pushed his hand away.

"Stop it," he muttered.

"Aw, what's the matter, Sweetheart, you afraid I'm gonna mess up your pretty hair?"

Jack only sighed and pulled away, moving to deposit himself rather miserably on the couch. He had learned long ago that as much as Bobby truly cared for his three brothers, he was simply relentless in his teasing. It was almost as if the oldest Mercer deemed it impossible to fulfill his proper duties as a big brother without meeting a daily quota of merciless taunts and gibes aimed at his younger siblings.

And as though to prove Jack's mental point, Bobby continued. "And, Jackie, you know when I tell you to 'stop growing,' I only mean 'up and down'." He headed back into the kitchen. "Shit, kid, we've gotta put some meat on your bones; you're skinnier than a freakin' beanpole!"

"Thanks, Bobby," Jack drawled with as much sarcasm as he could muster, "it's good to see you, too."

"Quit your whining," Bobby ordered sharply. "I'm gone for six months, and this is the homecoming I get? Come on, Jackie, you could at least pretend you're happy to see me." He sauntered back into the family room, a beer bottle in each hand, and flopped down on the couch beside his brother, propping his feet up on the coffee table in front of them. "Want one?" he offered, holding a bottle out toward Jack.

Jack groaned inwardly. Of course he wanted it! What kind of a question was that? Usually he had to bug Angel for beer, and here Bobby was holding one right under his nose. But he was feeling nauseas enough as it was, and the last thing he needed was a beer on an empty stomach.

"You know I'm just gonna drink it myself if you won't," Bobby's voice broke into his musings.

"Give me that!" Mind abruptly made up, Jack grabbed for the bottle and immediately chugged down almost half of it at once, just to aggravate his brother.

Bobby only laughed. "Easy, Sweetheart, it's not like I'm gonna take it outta your hand if you don't finish quick enough. Not like that'd be hard, of course. It'd be easier than taking candy from a baby."

Jack just blew out a long-suffering sigh. He really wasn't in the mood to fight, but per the official Mercer rules of engagement, he had to say something. "What did I ever do without you, Bobby?" he finally retorted with a roll of his blue eyes.

But Bobby was unperturbed. "See, I knew you'd missed me," he persisted with a jovial grin, slinging an arm across his brother's shoulders.

"Yeah, and now that you're back, I'm gonna miss the peace and quiet."

"Peace and quiet?" Bobby echoed, clearly amused. "With you blasting that damn fairy music all over the house? I don't think so, Jackie."

Jack shot him a rather vicious glare. Oh, if only looks could maim… "What the hell's put you in such a good mood today, Bobby?"

"What the hell's put _you_ in such a sour mood, Princess? Me, I'm just happy to be home, happy to see my baby brother again."

"Why? Haven't had anyone to torment for the last six months?"

Bobby pretended to be affronted. "Ouch, Jackie, that hurts."

"Doesn't mean it isn't true."

The older Mercer could only shrug with feigned innocence at that statement.

Jack smirked, then continued. "So, did you get home in time to see Mom before she left?"

"Yeah, I did. How about that, huh? My first weekend back, and she decides to leave us and go on an early Christmas retreat with her friends from work."

Jack scoffed, disbelieving. "C'mon, Bobby, it's not like she deserts us at every given opportunity. I mean, how long has it been since she's really had some time for herself?"

Bobby thought about that a moment, then replied, "Well, probably not since I came along."

"Exactly. She deserves a vacation, and you know it."

"Yeah, I know. I was just hopin' to see her more, that's all. But I'm here til after Christmas, so there'll be plenty of time."

"I am glad you're staying longer this time," Jack said softly, the most serious he'd been since his arrival home.

"Me too, Jackie." Bobby's arm tightened briefly around his brother's shoulders before withdrawing completely.

Jack finished his beer in the silence that followed and set the empty bottle on the table with a loud clink, already wishing he had just turned it down. Now he really felt like crap.

Bobby suddenly glanced at his watch and shifted impatiently in his seat. "Where the hell are Angel and Jerry? I didn't think they were usually this late getting home."

"They're not," Jack told him. "But Jerry did say something about spending tonight and tomorrow at Camille's. Her grandparents are in town, or something like that, and she wanted him to meet them."

"Hmph. He really is serious about that girl, huh? And how about Angel – any idea where that big sister of yours is?"

Jack shook his head, but at that moment, the phone rang. Bobby grudgingly got up to answer it, muttering a fluid stream of curses along the way.

"Hello? Angel, where the hell've you been, man? Me and Jackie are just sitting here waitin' for ya…"

Jack tuned out the conversation after that, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the cushions. All he wanted to do right now was curl up in his bed and sleep – fat chance of that. It seemed he had barely shut his eyes when he suddenly received a swift smack on the head from Bobby.

"Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty!"

"Oww! Shit, Bobby, what's your problem?"

"My problem? My problem is that now Angel's ditching us, too. He's staying over at that girl Sofi's house, the bastard. Looks like it's just you and me tonight, Kiddo."

"Sofi?" Jack frowned. "Is she the one you call 'La Vida Loca'?"

"Yeah, that's her alright. I'm telling ya, Jackie, girls like that are nothing but trouble. So if Angel the ladies' man won't listen to me, I'll just have to drill my hard-earned life lessons into your thick skull."

He clobbered Jack on the head again, this time with a throw pillow which he then allowed to be wrested out of his grip.

"You're not gonna leave me for some chick are ya, Jackie?"

Jack sighed and rested his chin on the pillow that he now hugged against his chest. "No, Bobby."

The eldest Mercer paused, a wicked grin playing on his features. "Or for some dude?"

"Shut up, Bobby!" Jack snapped, abruptly whipping the pillow at his brother.

But Bobby caught it effortlessly and moved to put it back on the couch, shaking his head all the while. "That was weak, Jack. What're we gonna do about you, Fairy?"

When Jack didn't respond, Bobby gave him a quick nudge on the shoulder. "Enough of this shit. Get your ass off the couch and grab your skates. Let's go see if we can get a pick-up game goin' down at the rink."

Jack swallowed hard at that, his stomach lurching. Hockey? Now? Oh, please, no…

Panicked, he threw out the first excuse that came to mind. "You know, there may not be anybody down there right now, Bobby."

"I know. I had hoped that with Jerry and Angel here, we could at least play two-on-two. But since they've both deserted us, the least I can do is teach you some new tricks. You know, toughen ya up a little."

Jack snorted softly. He knew what that meant, all right– getting knocked around on the ice like a rag doll, and all in the name of brotherly love.

"But it's getting late, Bobby, and besides, it's freezing out there." He didn't care if he sounded like petulant child; he didn't want to do anything right now! Anything, of course, except sleep – or perhaps throw up. That didn't sound like such a bad idea right now, either. Definitely shouldn't have had that beer…

Yet Bobby remained undaunted. "Don't be such a sissy, Jackie. What's the matter, don't you wanna go play hockey with your big brother who you haven't seen in ages?"

Jack suppressed a groan. Bobby just had to put it that way, didn't he? Well, if nothing else, perhaps the fresh air would do him some good? Not likely. But when Bobby Mercer wanted to play hockey, there was little stopping him. Screw golf, that man would have played hockey on the moon if he'd gotten there first!

"All right," Jack finally conceded. "You win. But only if you help me up, first." He extended a hand toward Bobby who happily pulled him none too gently off the couch.

"Come on then, Little Brother, let's go!"

Jack drew a deep breath in a futile attempt to clear his head and followed reluctantly after his older brother. Suffice to say, he had a bad feeling about this.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary: **Pre-movie. Jack comes down with a nasty flu bug, and Bobby's the only one home to take care of him. Definitely NO slash. Rated for some language. Admittedly fun and fluffy, my goal here is to make you smile!

**Disclaimer: **I claim no ownership whatsoever to Jack and Bobby Mercer or to the movie "Four Brothers."

**Author's Note: **My sincerest thanks to all of you for your kind and encouraging reviews! I'm honored by the quick acceptance and admiration this fanfic has already achieved! But it turns out that I actually have enough material to make this fic 3 parts instead of just 2 - it keeps growing, and growing. This particular update is in honor of Torilei's 16th birthday, which is tomorrow, May 7. Happy Sweet Sixteenth, Tori! Please enjoy, everyone, and I'm looking forward to your wonderful reviews!

**Sick Little Fairy: Part 2**

Jack was miserable all the way to the ice rink. He tried to find some solace in the music cascading over the radio as they drove along, but even the beautifully hypnotic melody of Pink Floyd's "Comfortably Numb" offered little comfort.

He was sweltering. After putting on his coat as they'd left the house, he had felt like a Thanksgiving turkey in the oven. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against the car's cold window. Now _that_ felt good!

He must have dozed off leaning against the window, because the next thing he knew, the car door was being jerked open. Strangling back an exclamation of surprise, Jack was glad for the first time in his life that Bobby was so adamant about wearing seatbelts. Without it, he would have done a graceful face-plant straight into the pavement.

"Bobby, what the hell?" Jack undid his seatbelt and scowled up at his older brother who stood outside the car, a look of mixed amusement and impatience on his face.

"At least you never asked, 'Are we there yet?' That's twice you've fallen asleep on me now, Fairy, and I've only been home a few hours. What's wrong with you? This better not be a side-effect of some drug, or I'm gonna have to pound you."

Jack swung his legs out of the car and buried his face in his hands. Why was it so hot? "Bobby, I don't feel good," he moaned at last.

But Bobby just reached over to mess up his brother's hair as was his wont. "Walk it off, Sweetheart, you'll be fine. Or better yet, skate it off. Now c'mon, get your ass outta the car, and let's play!"

Looking back, Jack was never quite sure how he managed to get out of the car, into his skates, and onto the ice. As he'd suspected, no one else was around, but that was just fine with him. At least he could count on Bobby to show a little restraint – hopefully.

The evening began with Bobby giving Jack some pointers on how to increase his speed when skating backwards, and they then progressed to practicing a new series of strategic passes that Bobby had learned during his time away. Jack's skating was a bit unsteady, to say the least. His head swam, and his cheeks burned, but he did manage to stay upright.

That was, until Bobby decided it was time to take things in a new direction.

"All right, Jackie, let's see if you've practiced what I taught you last time about checking. Remember, you've gotta push up when you get 'em into the boards."

Jack was only partially successful in holding back the whimper that rose involuntarily to his lips. Checking? His body already ached to the point where it was almost unbearable, and they hadn't even done anything too terribly strenuous. Hell, he didn't think he was this out of shape…

"Jack!"

"Huh?" Jack snapped back to reality and looked around to find his brother stick-handling the puck off to his left.

"I said, 'Hit me,' Jackie, now come on!"

Suddenly cold, Jack shivered and took a deep breath. This was not going to be pretty. But as Bobby continued to egg him on, Jack finally decided to give it a shot, if for no other reason than the hope that it might shut Bobby up – a feat of Herculean proportions.

With a quick prayer heavenward for any deity that might hear him, he took off toward his brother, picking up as much speed as possible along the way. Bobby, on his part, continued skating near the boards while Jack adapted a course to intercept him.

Needless to say, the impact that followed was less than Bobby had hoped for, but it was everything Jack had dreaded. He and Bobby collided, but instead of Bobby being forced into the boards as intended, Jack simply bounced off him and immediately fell sprawling onto the ice.

The momentum of Jack's hit was just enough to shove Bobby aside so that he bumped lightly into the boards, and he now observed his little brother in abject horror.

"Jackie," he said slowly, "please tell me that did not just happen – please tell me I've raised you better than this!"

But Jack didn't respond. He had managed to push himself up onto his knees, but no further. That had just been too much, and Jack had finally reached his breaking point. Every joint in his body seemed to be throbbing! So he stayed there, hunched over with his arms wrapped around his stomach, oblivious to the fact that Bobby was now standing directly above him.

"Jack?" Bobby tried. "C'mon, I couldn't have hit you that hard – shit, I didn't even _hit_ you at all! You'd think I was the Great Wall of China, the way you just fell over. What the hell's wrong with you, man?"

Jack groaned. "Damn it, Bobby, I'm sick!"

"You still on about that? What'd I tell you, just skate it off! What kinda girl have you turned into while I was gone? It can't be that bad, you fairy."

He emphasized the last statement with a playful cuff to the back of Jack's head, but that proved to be the feather that broke the proverbial camel's back. Overcome by his nausea at last, Jack suddenly bent forward and vomited miserably onto the ice.

"Whoa, Jackie!" Bobby took an involuntary step backward and watched in silence, shocked into a state of temporary immobility, while his brother was sick. But he shook his head as the initial surprise wore off and came to skate up behind the ill teenager, laying a steady hand on his shoulder until Jack was finished.

"You really are sick, aren't ya, Jackie?"

Jack wanted to slug him. But considering that he felt as though he'd never be able to even stand upright again, the desire was immediately squelched. His head spun with renewed intensity, and he feared he would soon end up face-first in the disgusting mess he had made.

But Bobby had him firmly by the shoulders and was already lifting him to his feet. Getting Jack off the ice proved surprisingly easy as Bobby simply pushed him along on his skates.

"Come on, Cracker Jack," he said, his voice softening considerably. "Let's get you home."

He helped Jack over to a nearby bench where removed the kid's skates and put on his shoes. Jack looked on, disinterested, almost as though he wasn't fully aware of his brother's actions. He shivered violently and folded his arms around himself once again. It was so cold!

Frowning, Bobby removed one of his gloves and laid his bare hand against Jack's forehead.

"Holy shit, Kid!" he exclaimed. "You're freakin' burning up! Why didn't you say something? You are such an idiot sometimes, Jack, you know that?"

Jack wanted desperately to come up with some smart-ass reply, but he could barely see straight right now, much less think straight. He shuffled his feet along with no resistance as Bobby gently pulled him upright yet again and led him back toward the car.

He slumped down into the seat, exhausted, and when Bobby started the car, the first thing Jack did was reach over and turn off the radio – right in the middle of Queen's timeless classic, "Bohemian Rhapsody." Bobby immediately went wide-eyed, and he whirled around to stare at his brother with renewed concern.

"Are you dyin' on me, Jackie?" he asked in all seriousness. "Do I need to take you to the emergency room?"

Jack just shook his head without a word and leaned his burning forehead against the frosted glass of the window.

"Okay," Bobby said uncertainly. "If you're sure." He then put the car into gear and headed off down the street.

But they hadn't been driving long before Jack spoke up, his voice little more than a pitiful whimper. "Bobby…"

"Jack, if you puke in my car, I swear I'll kick your ass!"

"Then pull over!" Jack's face had taken on a shade of green rather reminiscent of pea soup, and Bobby wasted no time in jerking his car to the side of the road and screeching to a halt.

The abrupt movements certainly did little to improve Jack's condition, and before the vehicle had come to a complete stop, the teen had the car door open and was throwing up once more, hating himself all the while for the spectacle he must be making. Especially in front of his brother.

But Bobby just waited in perfect silence until Jack finally pulled his head back inside, face paler than the white T-shirt he wore under his hoodie. After Jack's breathing was more steady, Bobby placed a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"You ready now, Jackie?"

Jack's nodded response was barely perceptible, but Bobby saw it and gave his brother's shoulder a quick squeeze.

"Sick little fairy."

Jack didn't acknowledge the comment, and the oldest Mercer sighed deeply. "What a weekend for Ma to be gone," he muttered to himself as he once again started homeward. Suffice to say, he had a bad feeling about this.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary: **Pre-movie. Jack comes down with a nasty flu bug, and Bobby's the only one home to take care of him. Definitely NO slash. Rated for some language. Admittedly fun and fluffy, my goal here is to make you smile!

**Disclaimer: **It still holds true: I do not own the Mercer boys.

**Author's Note: **All right, this is really it - the end of the story! Bitter sweet, isn't it? Again, many thanks to those of you who took the time to review! You made my day, and inspired me to get this up as quickly as possible. For a long time, I had no idea how I was going to wrap this all up, but today inspiration struck big time, and I think it'll all work out nicely. So I hope you all enjoy this final installment, and I'll talk to you soon!

**Sick Little Fairy: Part 3**

The remainder of the ride home occurred without incident, much to the relief of both Mercers. But when Bobby finally pulled up in front of the house, Jack groaned and rested his head back against the seat, squeezing his eyes shut as they had been for the majority of the trip.

"Hey, Jack!" Bobby called from the driver's seat, snapping his fingers under the kid's nose. "Wake up, Little Brother. We gotta get you inside."

Jack just feebly shook his head. He did not want to move anywhere right now!

"Jack," Bobby repeated testily, "you're gonna have to get up; I'm not carrying you in, ya fairy!"

But when Jack still just sat there, as unmoving as an old dog in the summer sun, the eldest Mercer gave an exasperated sigh and got out of the car, coming around to open Jack's door.

"Alright, Princess, I know you can hear me, so listen up. I may not be Ma, but I do know better than to leave you out here in the cold all night – although that is pretty tempting. Now if you expect me to haul your little fairy-ass inside, you've got another thing comin'. I can get you outta this car, Jackie, but trust me, it won't be pretty."

Jack's eyes stayed closed, but he at least found sufficient energy to open his mouth.

"Bobby – shut up."

"Jack – get outta the car."

It was an epic battle of wills, they both knew, but Jack did have the unenviable advantage of being sick –an advantage he would undoubtedly exploit later on after Evelyn returned home.

But Bobby had to try one last time. "Jack, I'm gonna count to three, and if you still aren't outta the damn car, we're gonna do this my way."

Jack was entirely unfazed. "Count away, Bobby," he mumbled. "I'll just have to throw up on you next."

That seemed to strike a chord, and Bobby halted before the word "one" could even get past his lips.

"Fine! Have it your way, then. Let's just get your ass inside before you freeze to death!"

Jack replied with a quick nod and shivered once again, teeth chattering. He had been so hot when Bobby had first opened the door that the icy air had been blissful. But now, he felt like an ice cube again, and the cold was torture. Why did the front door seem so far away?

He was suddenly jolted out of his reverie by the feel of something heavy being draped across his shoulders – it was Bobby's winter coat. Jack frowned, about to protest that he didn't need it, but Bobby had already launched into another one of his famed lectures.

"How come you don't ever really wear a coat, Jackie?" he was saying, clearly not caring if his brother truly heard him or not. "You're always wearing those freakin' sweaters, man, it's no wonder you're sick as a dog."

"They're usually warm enough," Jack argued unenthusiastically, pulling the jacket closer despite himself. It _was_ cozily warm, with Bobby's body heat still lingering on the inside. Jack scrunched up his nose at the scent of old sweat and cheap cologne; it even _smelled _like Bobby!

"Okay, Kiddo, no more dawdling. Get your ass in gear, and let's go."

Jack knew Bobby well enough to realize that it was indeed time to move – there was no arguing with that tone. Nevertheless, the best he could manage was to more or less roll himself out of the car and into Bobby's arms.

"Whoa!" the older man exclaimed, barely managing to keep his brother from tumbling to the ground. "Hold on, Jackie, what'd I say about carrying you?"

But Jack was too busy wishing his head would stop spinning to reply as Bobby pulled him carefully to his feet and held him steady for a moment.

"You must really feel like shit, huh, Kid? You look like it, too. Now come on, we've been out here long enough."

Conceding to the inevitable at last, Bobby slung one of Jack's arms over his broad shoulders and put his own arm around the kid's slender waist. And as they slowly but surely made their way up to the house, Bobby realized that there were some occasional benefits to having a brother who was skinnier than a beanpole.

Things progressed smoothly until they reached the top step leading up to the front porch, when Jack's stomach got best of him yet again. Suddenly pushing away from Bobby, the youngest Mercer grabbed onto the handrail and vomited over the side. Bobby kept a hand on the teen's back the entire time, feeling Jack's heart race while his whole body convulsed from being so violently ill.

When he was certain Jack was through at last, Bobby gently led his brother the rest of the way into the house where Jack immediately collapsed on the couch. He curled up on himself, shivering uncontrollably, and was only vaguely aware that Bobby had covered him with one of their mother's heavy afghan blankets.

"Jackie, you wanna try and make it upstairs to your room? No? Well, how 'bout givin' me my coat back, then? I may need to wash it after all this."

Jack just shook his head miserably in reply, holding the jacket even tighter, and Bobby suppressed a chuckle.

"Big baby," he teased, quickly ruffling Jack's hair. Nevertheless, he dashed upstairs and returned shortly with a few more blankets and the pillow from Jack's bed.

"Here ya go, Sweetheart, these oughta help." He laid the extra blankets over his brother but had to literally pick up Jack's head before he could shove the pillow under it, habitually ignoring the kid's groan of protest.

"You'll thank me for this someday," he assured the ill teenager while reaching down to remove his shoes. "Let's at least try to keep Ma's furniture somewhat clean, okay? And speaking of which…"

He trailed off and abruptly made his way back into the kitchen, coming back with a large mixing bowl in hand.

"For the next time you throw up," he explained, trying to keep his tone light.

Jack grunted a most unappreciative response, and suddenly kicked off all the blankets Bobby had brought him not long ago.

"Hey, Princess, what the hell is this?" Bobby exclaimed, taking the opportunity to snatch his jacket up from off the floor. "I thought you were freezin' to death."

"Not anymore," Jack groaned, turning over onto his back. He wiped a hand across his face, now covered with a sheen of sweat.

Bobby gazed down on his younger brother and hurriedly wracked his memory. Fevers: hot and cold flashes – right. It had been while since he'd really been sick himself. Well, except for the occasional hangover, of course.

"Jackie, where does Ma keep thermometers and shit like that? The bathroom?"

Jack nodded, eyes still shut in his misery until a few moments later when Bobby whacked him on the nose with a thermometer.

"Ouch! Damn it, Bobby, can't you let me sleep?"

"You ain't asleep yet, darlin'," Bobby replied, totally unmoved. "Besides, if your temperature's over 104, I'm draggin' your sorry ass to the hospital whether you like it or not."

Jack opened his mouth to argue, but Bobby just seized the moment and stuck the thermometer under his brother's tongue.

"Good, now shut your mouth and keep that there for a minute," he ordered, and though Jack pouted around the thermometer, he complied. At long last, a verdict was reached.

"103.2," Bobby read. "So no hospital, lucky for you. Just don't die on me now, or Ma'll have my head when she gets back."

Jack didn't respond, just rolled back onto his stomach and clutched desperately at the corners of the pillow beneath his head.

Bobby sighed. What else was there to do? Suddenly, he was struck by a rare bolt of genius.

"Hang on a sec, Jackie, don't go anywhere." He hurried back into the kitchen for the second time, rummaging loudly through the refrigerator for some time until he finally let out a victorious "Aha!"

There was the distinct snap of a pop can being opened and the distant chug of liquid being poured before Bobby finally reemerged with a tall glass in hand. Of course, Jack hadn't gone anywhere.

"There ya go, Cupcake." Bobby set the glass down on the coffee table in front of Jack, grinning broadly despite the circumstances. "Now you're officially sick."

Jack raised his head briefly and made a face. "Bobby, what is that?" His tone was slightly less than trusting, and understandably so.

Bobby didn't seem to mind. "It's just 7-Up, Sweetheart, no need to get antsy. See, even I know that's like a cure-all when you're sick to your stomach."

Now looking partially convinced, Jack reached out for the glass, hand trembling slightly, and brought it unsteadily to his lips.

"Sorry," Bobby continued while Jack drank. "I woulda gotten you one of those little kiddie straws to go in it, but we didn't have any. You an' Angel must go through 'em pretty fast, huh, Kiddo?"

"Ha ha, Bobby, very funny." Jack glared up at his older brother as he set the glass back on the table.

It _had_ been nice getting something to drink, and the sweetness of the 7-Up had cleansed his mouth of the disgusting flavor that came from throwing up so many times. He shuddered again, suddenly chilled by the sweat that dampened his clothes and made them cling to his skin.

"You cold again, Jackie?" Bobby inquired with a frown.

Jack nodded, already reaching down to retrieve the previously discarded blankets from the floor, but Bobby beat him to it.

"Hold on, now, you just take it easy," he scolded gently, forcing Jack to lie back before covering him again with the blankets.

Jack wordlessly pulled the blankets up closer around his neck and pitifully rubbed his aching head against the pillow. For as badly as he wanted to fall asleep, it certainly wasn't proving to be that easy.

"Ya know," Bobby mused, "I could mix some Vodka in with that 7-Up and have you sleeping like a baby in no time."

"Please don't, Bobby," Jack begged him. "I don't think I could deal with the headache when I woke up."

Bobby laughed. "Ain't that the truth!"

"What time is it, anyway?" Jack asked, shivering once more.

Bobby glanced at his watch. "Almost 10:30, believe it or not. I don't remember how long we were at the rink before you puked your guts out all over the ice." He chuckled. "That'll be a pretty site for whoever gets there first tomorrow."

Yet when Jack remained silent, the older man came over and placed a warm hand on the teen's shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"But don't worry about that, Jackie. It'll be all right. You just get some sleep now, okay?"

Jack nodded quickly and let out the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.

Amused, the oldest Mercer grinned down at his little brother. "You need to relax, Jackie, you're all tense. No wonder you can't fall asleep."

"Well, maybe you talking nonstop has something to do with it, too?" Jack suggested tiredly.

"Maybe," Bobby agreed with a shrug. "But I'll shut up now so you can sleep, all right? I promise."

Jack gave a shaky sigh, struggling to relax his anguished body, and he didn't mind at all when Bobby began to gently massage his shoulders. But after several minutes of this had passed, and Jack still hadn't completely fallen asleep, Bobby suddenly laughed.

"Bobby," Jack moaned, turning his head to face his brother. "You promised you'd be quiet."

"I know, Jackie, but it doesn't seem to really be helping. Besides, I've been thinking."

Jack looked unimpressed. "Please, do tell," he drawled.

"I was thinking," Bobby went on, "about how freakin' stupid I am."

Even in his current state of misery, Jack had to grin. "You're just now figuring that out? How come?"

"Ever heard of a little thing called medicine, Little Brother? Cuz apparently _I _haven't. Be right back." He left to go upstairs and came back down shortly with a bottle of aspirin in one hand and some Pepto-Bismal in the other.

"I can't believe I didn't think of this sooner," he muttered, continuing to degrade himself. "Don't tell Ma, okay, Jackie? Even she'd never let me live it down. Here, take this."

He thrust the medications in Jack's direction, and the boy took it gratefully, making a face as he swallowed the infamous pink liquid.

Bobby raised an eyebrow. "You gonna hurl again?"

"No, I'm fine," Jack replied, shaking his head. "I just wish they could make this shit taste better."

"Amen to that!" Bobby agreed with a chuckle.

Jack lay back down then, drawing the blankets up close to his chin, while Bobby turned out the lights and settled himself down on the floor with his back against the couch.

"Go to sleep now, Jackie-o. I'll stick around in case you need anything later, okay?"

"'Hokay," Jack sighed as he closed his eyes once more. "Night, Bobby."

"Night, Cracker Jack."

"And…Bobby?"

"Hmm?"

"Thanks."

"Hey, you're welcome, Sweetheart," Bobby replied with an unseen smile, reaching up to once again rub the back of his brother's head.

Jack didn't say anything more, but his steady breathing soon thereafter told his sibling that he'd finally fallen asleep. Bobby stretched his legs out with a wide yawn and closed his eyes, leaning his head back until it rested against his younger brother's shoulder. And so he slept.

* * *

Bobby awoke late the following morning to the familiar sound of laughter. He squinted his eyes open and craned his neck upward to behold none other than Evelyn Mercer herself.

"Ma?" he asked bewilderedly, wincing as he sought to move his sore body from the uncomfortable position in which it had spent the night.

"Good morning, Bobby," she said sweetly, walking up to greet him with a kiss on the forehead. "It's always good to have you home, Son."

"Thanks, Ma," he replied automatically, still hopelessly confused. "But what're you doing home, I thought you were gonna be gone on that retreat all weekend?"

"I was," she explained gently, "and last night was very fun. But we had to leave early this morning due to the bad weather coming in. Didn't you notice?"

Evelyn gestured outside the window where snow was being wildly whipped around in gusts of icy wind – a true Detroit blizzard.

"If we'd stayed any longer, we would've been lucky to get home by Tuesday." She laughed again. "Even Jerry and Angel might find it hard to get back home any time soon."

"Well, in that case, I'm glad you came back," Bobby told her, finally getting to his feet. He rubbed his stiff neck and sighed. "It's been a long night."

"I can see that," Evelyn replied with a smile, turning her attention to Jack who was still sound asleep on the couch. She didn't need to inquire after her son's condition; motherly intuition told her all she needed to know. "But it looks like you've done a fine job with him."

"Thanks, Ma," he said, returning her smile. "It was no problem. After all, someone has to look out for the sick little fairy. But still, I'm glad you're home."

"So am I, dear," she agreed, giving him a soft pat on the cheek. "So am I."

Suffice to say, Evelyn Mercer had a much better feeling about leaving her sons home alone than ever before.


End file.
